


Mockery

by WolfjawsWriter



Series: The Other Guy [2]
Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 10:14:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15241164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfjawsWriter/pseuds/WolfjawsWriter
Summary: Quill finds it to be adorable the way Lucy blushes.





	1. Mockery 1

Right, this clearly is not my definition of a good time, or a good case. At all.

 

So, we’ve been called to get rid of another ghost, normal? Yes. That was normal.

We were called by DEPRAC because of something they wanted to pester us about? Yes. That was normal too.

Mr Barnes lectured us about the latest regulation added to the manual? Yes. They didn’t usually added regulations, but I guess it was fine.

Did he completely forced us into having to work with a Fittes team on this case we were having? Yes. That’s where things were out of ordinary.

Was that Fittes team conveniently Quill Kipps' team? Yes. And that’s where the joke stops being funny.

 

Mrs Lowley said her daughters claimed to have seen a weird figure on their hallway, running from the stairs and disappearing on the window at the other side of the hall, hearing some muddled sounds. She requested, begged, us that we took care of the ghost now, since her house would be hosting her oldest daughter’s wedding and she couldn’t _(wouldn’t)_ put her guests in ghost-touch danger. Of course, we agreed to do this today, I mean, she was making a very high bid, she was obviously desperate, and we weren’t going to deny some good money.

I just wished Inspector Barnes wouldn’t make us go with _them_.

 

“Don’t Fittes have any other teams they could send?” George had taken it upon himself to make all the necessary complains on his and my name as well “I’m sure they have many other and better teams that are not formed with garden gnomes! Oh, never mind, that’s just Bobby”

 

“Hey!”

 

“George, please restrain yourself from comparing Kipps’ team with garden decorations. As much as gnomes would make a better team, it is not the point or the time to discuss it” Even Lockwood seemed edgy.

 

“Look, Tony, is not like Barnes gave us any more voice in the matter than he gave you, so suck it up”

 

Mrs Lowley’s mansion was one of those buildings that were now mostly used for orphanages, but modernized and stylish, with a big entry, a creamy color on the towering walls, with many white-framed windows, four stories tall, with the central windows of all floors protruding two-bricks-length forward.

We entered the house, leaving the extensive front yard outside with the darkening sky. The first hall extended before us, barely showing the staircase that stood at the far end. There were two big waiting rooms on either side of the hall, filled with portraits, classy furniture, and chimneys, then, after those, the enormous kitchen with stoves, ovens, counters and bars, and lastly, a dinner room that held a huge table, surrounded by millions of chairs. How do they fill so many spaces?! Not even the people in my hometown had that many children!

 

We established ourselves on the kitchen, choosing one of the counters to place our bags, and placed the kettle on the nearest stove. When all of us had a cup of tea, and had calmed our nerves, George and Bobby took out their notes, both checked by the other.

 

“In short, we both found the same, so how about I explain it?” Glaring, Bobby nodded “Well, before the house belonged to the Lowleys, the place doesn’t have a much interesting story; sheltered many mediocre rich families, but, just like every time we deal with money and fame, there’s a tragic love story” he pulled out a photograph of a young girl, black and white, yet her perfect features were not disrupted: big, almond eyes, plush lips, high cheekbones, thin neck “Miss Evangeline Rosewits, daughter of Duke Reynaldo Rosewits and the only one to blame for this case. She was betrothed, you see, to the son of the Italian Baron, Lisandro Sangaletti. They were both very in love and all, but she had the hots for-”

 

Kate coughed loudly, silently pointing to Bobby, who had followed George’s explanation like a cat with a mouse.

 

“Sorry, I’ll rephrase that, she had been making goo-goo eyes for a stable boy, Nathaniel Oakstone, who was head-over-boots for her. She promised him Lisandro would never learn of their “adventures”, even after she was married, she encouraged him to look for her. Unfortunate for them, clever Lisandro found out and discovered them playing “sweethearts”, so he shot Nathaniel, who ran out of the room and through the stairs while the other man kept shooting at him, until they came to the third floor, where Nathaniel threw himself out the window. The impact killed him, Lisandro was taken to jail for murder and little miss Evangeline happily remarried a few years later”

 

“Women are crazy” Ned muttered. Neither me nor Kate opened our mouths at that, but silently stared sideways, though I noticed both Lockwood and Kipps eyed us, expectant, for a moment.

 

“Don’t worry, Luce, George and I know you would never do something like that, I doubt even Kate here would do it”

 

“So we are dealing with Nathaniel’s ghost?” I asked. Talking about what women did with their future husbands and mine was not a topic I wished to discuss.

 

“Most probably” Bobby fished through his own stash of papers, and produced a photo, this one also in black and white. There was a couple happily smiling at the camera, the girl, long dress and ridiculous hat on her head, sitting on top of a horse with a man, with a long white coat and sword sticking out it on the back, standing before her. There was, as well, someone else on the picture; a boy, seemingly younger than the couple, holding the horse’s reins. His attire was simple, long slacks and a plain shirt. He looked somewhere far outside the photo, seemingly caught mid walk by the camera.

 

_“What a nice story”_ Oh yes, he was here too. The Skull had started coming to cases with us after the Bickerstaff case, making his useless comments and tempting me to throw it against any walls we encountered most of the time. I sometimes wished he’d never talk to me, however, I couldn’t answer him in front of Kipps’ team and risk them hearing, they’d take me for mad, or worse, they could find out about my Talent and tell Fittes!

 

“Very well then, I’m thinking we should split in teams” Quill said once we had all taken a good look of the picture. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that Barnes made Quill leader of the operation, even though is was _our_ client. This is why Lockwood was edgy right now “that way we can all search all the manor faster”

 

“There are four floors and a basement, which is twice the size of any floor”

 

“So, Bobby, you’ll go with Cubbins and search the basement, Kate, Ned and Tony will take the 1st and the 2nd floor, and Lucy and me’ll take the 3rd and 4th floor”

 

“Actually, Quill, I don’-”

 

“Do I have to remind you of who did Barnes placed as the leader, Tony?” We all cautiously looked between the two of them, fearing the same thing; a fight. Lockwood scowled for a mere second, tying his tongue to where it belonged, before swallowing his pride.

 

“No, I don’t think there’ll be a need for that”

 

_“Crybaby”_

 

We grabbed our things, finished our tea and biscuits, then headed towards our floors.

 

“Hey” I looked back to find Lockwood taking my arm, a small frown displaying on his face.

 

“I’ll be all right” I reassured him “I can take Kipps’ idiocy for a night”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Of course, his gonna have to bear me and my sarcasm” He smiled, though not his gigawatt smile, a small and somewhat sad smile.

 

“Well, if anything happens, anything, just scream and I’ll come up” We parted after that, and I met Quill, who waited for me at the base of the third floor. 

The hallway was long before us and ended with a long window. There were four rooms on the floor, two on each side. The first one was a library, a long room which’s walls were barely seen behind the cramped-to-the-brim bookshelves, to the point in which there were towers of them on the floor. Next to it was a study, which had some bookshelves of it own, with a big mahogany desk in the middle. On the other side of the hall, the first room was a nursery, with a wooden crib and a small bed and wooden toys all around the floor, the walls decorated with colorful paintbrushes. The last room seemed to be another living room, though it was remarkable smaller than the ones on the first floor.

 

The fourth floor was conformed by four bedrooms, all with private bathrooms. They all held a bigger-than-normal double bed, various wardrobes, boudoirs and mirrors. The bathrooms were complete with showers, bathtubs, toilets, sinks and more wardrobes. Who needed that much wardrobes?!

 

We took readings on each of the rooms, but they were all normal, with not a trace of temperature drops, miasma or ghost-fog, so we decided to place our chain circle on the library, keeping the big, sliding doors wide open in case we needed to flee.

 

“Pray, Miss Carlyle, or Lucy?” 


	2. Mockery 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill still finds it to be adorable the way Lucy blushes.

**_“Pray, Miss Carlyle, or Lucy?”_** Quill had kept silent up until now, except for the readings we’d been taking.

  
“Lucy is alright” We sat on the middle of the chains, our rucksacks beside us. 

  
“How have things been going over at Lockwood and Co.?”

  
“They’ve been good”

 

_“He’s suddenly interested in you? I’d say that’s suspicious”_

 

“I’m glad, the whole ‘Bickerstaff’ thing was exhausting” It had been a month since we finished that case, and I still felt uneasy at night when I thought about the bone-glass. Thinking back on it, the images of Joplin’s mad eyes, Bickerstaff’s ghost, the catacombs, everything flooded my mind, and I shivered, and as I swam back on my memories, the images of the Fittes anniversary party came to me.

Or more like, my dance with Kipps came back to me.

 

It was safe to say Lockwood lectured me on the matter of our little dance, claiming I had been “fraternizing with the enemy” and, unsurprisingly, George backed him; apparently he had seen it as well. Of course, I countered back saying they had left me _ON MY OWN_ at a _PARTY_ filled with _PEOPLE I DON’T KNOW_ , what was I exactly expected to do? That seemed to calm them down and apologized for leaving me alone back there.

 

“I hope that our little dance at the party didn’t get you in Tony’s bad side” Had he been reading my mind?

 

“Just a minor discussion” I averted my eyes from him, knowing he was smirking.

 

“I never thought Tony was the jealous employer”

 

_“Me neither”_

 

“He doesn’t like it when you call him ‘Tony’, you know?”

 

“Well, I don’t like having to work with him, so I guess we are even”

 

_“I like this guy”_

 

There was a little psychic disturbance, like a hum that was just in reach for me to catch it.

 

“You are a magnificent dancer, Lucy, you know that?”

 

_“I take it back”_

 

“How can you tell? Have you danced with many girls before?”

 

“Just a few, though, many of them are not too good, or pretty like you for that matter” I glanced at him to see him smiling at me “ended up with many flat toes”

 

“I almost feel sorry for you”

 

“Oh, but you shouldn’t, that was the way I truly learned to dance” He remained silent for a few minutes, in which he just silently stared at me “you looked gorgeous that night”

 

My ears felt hot as I looked at him. Normally, when someone said this kind of things to me, I would slap them, but somehow, I found that I couldn’t slap Quill. His head was held by his hand which was propped against his knees. I saw how close we were, and shrugged.

 

“You didn’t look so bad yourself” I muttered.

 

_“He didn’t?!”_

 

A disturbance. I turned away from him and to the door. I felt the creeping fear that settled on my mind, ghost-fog now appearing around us. The temperature dropping fast enough for us to see the walls covering in ice.

 

“Its coming” Quill was immediately on his feet, like myself. We walked to the door, and peered outside, where the fog was thicker, but there were no figures on the hall.

 

_“she…”_

 

“Its talking” I strained my ears, focusing on the otherworldly silence, hearing the hum clear in my mind.

 

_“…she…promised…”_

 

“What is it talking about?”

 

_“…she promised…me”_

 

“Something about a promise”

 

_“…she said he wouldn’t find out!”_ It fell on the last step of the stair in this floor, the other-light bursting with the impact. The figure was fuzzy, too hasty to made out clearly, but as it ran in front of us I was able to make out somethings; his long hair, his bare feet, his angered face. The sound of hurried footsteps resounded on my ears, the booms of shooting echoing in my mind, and then the crash of glass as the figure disappeared at the window on the other end of the hall.

 

Then it was gone, but the disturbance remained.

 

“He talked about a broken promise” I said at last. Quill kept silent, eyeing the long window in which the figure had evaporated.

I walked out of the room and to the end of the aisle, my hand ready at my rapier. The Talent of Touch wasn’t exactly the most reliable of all. I pressed my other hand on the glass and immediately, the echoes came to me; the sound of laughter, of joy, of love all combined in a single second before it changed to a somewhat young feeling, a blooming inside of me, but it crashed like a book to the floor, replaced with an adventurous turn that became wrathful, resentful. The sounds of shooting combined with a feeling of loss and a stinging glass breaking.

 

My hand jumped from the window, coming to stop on my chest.

 

“I think it’ll be back soon” That was Quill, still behind me “the fog isn’t leaving”

 

“You think it’ll just repeat the same?”

 

“Yes…” An apparition that just repeated seconds before its death usually just appeared once per night, but, looking at the clock, it was barely past twelve. We walked back to the circle in silence, waiting for the apparition to come back. However, I didn’t wish to wait for it silently.

 

“I believe you were telling me something before the ghost came…?”

 

“Was I…?” Quill looked down, his eyes searching on something I couldn’t see, until they lit back up “Ah yes! I was just telling you how good you looked in that dress back at the party; blue is definitely your color, makes me wish there were more opportunities for you to wear it” I was thankful for the general lack of light, or Quill would have been able to see my blush: how did he said those things with such ease?! “Not that you’re not always good looking, that’s for sure” 

He continued his flattery, my hands trembling on my lap as I fought the urge to bring them to my face.

 

_“And suddenly he becomes a poet, right?”_

 

“Do you have much work these next days?” I looked at him, and I mean, really looked at him; his short red hair that somehow shined in the too-little moonlight, his freckled face that directed me a soft smile, a smile that couldn’t compete with Lockwood’s by far, yet-

 

“No, I don’t think so, why?”

 

“Would you like to go get lunch soon?”


	3. Mockery 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill will always find it to be adorable the way Lucy blushes.

**_“Would you like to go get lunch soon?”_ ** **_  
_ **

 

I stared silently.

 

“I hope you remember who I work with; Anthony J. Lockwood, leader of Lockwood and Co., your life’s rival, the man that wants to strangle you every time he sees you! Does any of that rings any bells?”

 

“I fail to see what Tony has to do with what I asked”

 

“Don’t you have a ‘No fraternizing with the enemy’ rule at Fittes?”

 

“Some rules are meant to be broken, Lucy, I’m sure Tony has taught you that, hasn’t he? Or have you never heard of ‘Romeo and Juliet’?”

 

“We are not some Shakespearean characters in a play, Quill” I sighted. The fog was increasing, and I was getting uneasy, especially since the Skull had been really quiet tonight, which usually I was grateful for, but somehow it made things weird “the answer is no, Quill”

 

Yet, he remained unfazed.

 

“I’ll keep waiting then”

 

**———————————**

The ghost managed to kind of sneak on us when Quill and I were still talking a few hours later. Enough said, we had a few complications and ended up running down the stairs to ask the others for help.

It was quite a show, to put in a sense, with me and Kate palpating the wood of the fourth floor’s floor for the source while the boys tried to dissuade the ghost, who kept screaming and crying about the broken promise. In the end, after an hour of treasure-hunting-with-out-butts-in-the-air, Kate and I found the source: a bullet. It was old and rusty, and had probably hit Nathaniel in a critical place but fell off him and rolled under the wood through a crack. That was my theory at least.

 

Although, the main event of the night began after we sealed the source. It should be mentioned that, while Quill and I were still at the library, I may have started to shiver, since I am wearing short-sleeves, and Quill may have offered me his jacket _(the one with the Fittes coat of arms on it)_ and I may have accepted it, since I was really cold and Quill was wearing long sleeves.

And I may have forgotten to take it off when we ran downstairs.

And I may or may not have completely forgotten to take it off until _someone_ mentioned I still had it on. Oops.

 

“Lucy, who’s jacket it that?” I was going to ask Lockwood what he meant, I had decided to come without a jacket after all, until I saw my arms covered with a grey cloth. Damn.

 

“Oh, sorry” I unzipped it and took it off, folding it and then turned to Quill, a small blush rising to my cheeks “thanks for letting me borrow this”

 

“Its no big deal” He took it but didn’t put it on, though. We all remained silent, but there was no need for words to know what was going on the others heads, and honestly, I didn’t wanted them to tell us.

 

“Well” Lockwood’s voice was forcibly calm, a strained smile displaying on his normally handsome features “we should all get leaving, Kipps I trust you’ll be taking that source to the Furnaces?”

 

“Of course”

 

And with that, we departed; Quill’s team going directly to the Fittes Furnaces while we went home. Though, while I walked beside George, I couldn’t help but look back at the other moving team, and saw that Quill was, just like myself, looking back. At me.

We made slight eye contact, in which he gave me the same smile he had when we were in the house’s library. I looked away quickly, knowing that if I didn’t, either George or Lockwood would notice. 

 

The whole cab ride back home we were silent, almost uncomfortably so, but I barely noticed. I just kept thinking back on the things Quill said and did when we were in the library. He acted so different then; he wasn’t snappy but patient, wasn’t rude but gentle. It was like watching another man; suave, tender, flatterer. A softer version of himself that he seemingly let no one around. No one but me.

 

I thought back to his smile, that simple smile. There are many types of smiles in this world, though I liked Lockwood’s smiles; the gigawatt smile, the charming smile, the charismatic smile. All this were smiles that always brightened my days, they gave me confidence, they made me feel better about myself. 

Quill’s smile was nonexistent compared to any smile Lockwood could make, it was stupid to even begin to compare them, it was **mockery** , yet, there was something oddly tender and almost superior in Quill’s little smile, but I couldn’t find why.

 

Of course, when we got home, I got another lecture about the “fraternizing” thing.

Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to bear with it.  
  



End file.
